


So Very Much Alike

by BrazenMonkey



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Execution, F/M, One True Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrazenMonkey/pseuds/BrazenMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The swords halts and hovers over the crouching figure and the boy turns to look at his queen again.<br/>Sansa steps forward, her back now turned to Sandor and with heavy breaths, whether they are from fear or exhaustion, he cannot tell, and faces the queen again. <br/>“Please, I beg you, Your Grace, ”<br/>Danaerys stares at the girl at the feet of the steps, now seemingly mildly surprised.<br/>“You see, I thought you would understand. After all, we two are not so different.” Tears are now running down Sansa’s cheeks.<br/>The Queen lightly frowns. “We are?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Very Much Alike

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go again.   
> I had this idea for weeks, I saw some similarities, or maybe just wanted to draw them, and finally found enough time to turn it into something.  
> Un-Beta'd and written down during a break from studying.

So this is how it ends, he thinks as he is pushed onto his knees in the Red Keep, his hands still tied, forcing his shoulders hanging forward in an awkward angle.

The captain of the queen’s guard remains by his side, the sword in his hand a reminder of the seriousness of Sandor’s situation. The boy is not much older than twenty, but in his face Sandor can see the kind of maturity that is forced on someone who has seen too much in years far too young. He knows that maturity.

He is forced to look up at the silver queen who is poised on the Iron Throne. Daenerys Targaryen is no doubt beautiful, with her endlessly long blond waves and her amethyst eyes. But there is a determined look on her face that tells him that she is just as fierce as the fire-breathing monsters she used to claim back the seven Kingdoms.

The throne is flanked by her two advisors, Ser Barristan Selmy and Jorah Mormont, their faces stern and motionless. Selmy’s eyes seem a bit softer, maybe he remembers the time he and the Hound served together. Not that that would save Sandor’s head in any way.

The queen rises with soft grace and the court falls still.

“Sandor Clegane, your sentence has been passed.” Her voice rings through the large hall and he can almost feel the silence, so palpable and dense.

“For your countless crimes against the Seven Kingdoms and the people of Westeros, you shall pay with your life. Such viciousness shall never go unpunished, nor can a man proven to be capable of such crimes be allowed to longer dwell among us.”

The sentence is no surprise to him, and judging by the muffled murmurs, neither is it no anyone else.

“The small councils has decided and the sentence shall be passed today. You will lose your head and meet your gods, maybe to find them more forgiving.” Her face shows no pity, not that he would have suspected it.

Her voice changes its pitch and she addresses the soldier next to him with foreign rough words, probably in High Valyrian. The dark-skinned boy nods silently and positions himself with a wider stance next to the man crouching on the floor, his hands flexing around the hilt of the sword.

Daenerys Targaryen raises her voice again. “Any last words, my lord?”

_I am no lord._ But he keeps his tongue in check and shakes his head so the shaggy black mane of hair dances around his eyes. There is nothing left to say.

The tip of the sword scratches against the marble floor with a little shriek and then, is raised to hover over Sandor’s exposed neck.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He wills a last picture of beauty to flash before his mind, his last act of solace. _Beauty of auburn curls and azure eyes..._

“NO!”

He remembers her voice more clearly than he expected as it echoes through his mind.

“Your Grace, stop!”

It suddenly dawns on him that the gasps that accompany that beautiful voice are no part of his imagination. His eyes snap open and before he can help himself, he turns his neck.

He must have died and gone to heaven – for the Maiden herself pushes her way through the gaping crowd. She is the embodiment of beauty and purity, long reddish hair, cheekbones finer than an artist could ever carve out of marble, skin as white as newborn clouds, her eyes bluer than the clearest sky.

Those eyes focus on his and a hurt far worse than any wound slams into Sandor Clegane’s chest.

Sansa Stark, the Queen in the North herself. His little bird.

For a second, she stares at him, a longing seemingly lingering in her gaze, before she turns her attention to the Queen.

“I beg pardon, Your Grace.” She bows deeply, her hands lowered behind her back, a perfect curtsy, though a bit shaky. “But I cannot let this man be executed.”

The Targaryen girl stares down at the intruder, her face a mask.

“And who are you to ask such a thing?”

Sansa squares her shoulders and raises her chin almost defiantly. “Lady Sansa of House Stark of Winterfell, Warden and Queen of the North.” She presents her titles like an armour and answers the silver queen’s strong gaze, yet her hands quiver at her sides.

“And you would have this man be pardoned and unharmed?” Her words betray no emotion, yet a persistent curiosity sparks in her violet eyes.

With a gentle nod, Sansa replies: “Yes, Your Grace. I am here to ask for him to be spared.”

An uproar spreads through the crowd, mutters of indignation at this insolence and ridicule at her ignorance to his crimes.

All Sandor Clegane can do is stare at the girl, unbelievingly, wordless.

A wave with her hand and the Queen silences the stirring crowd. “My Lady, this man has been found guilty of countless crimes, one far worse than the other – are you aware of that?”

“Yes.” Sansa replies almost shyle.

“Do you deny his crimes?”

Again, her eyes flicker to the man at the ground and Sansa swallows. “No, I am afraid I can’t.”

The Mother of dragons raises her brows disapprovingly. “Then there is no need to further discuss.” She gives her executioner a nod. “Grey Worm.”

“No, please!!”

A couple of gasps and shrieks sound from the crowd but Grey Worm stops his swing before delivering the fatal blow.

The swords halts and hovers over the crouching figure and the boy turns to look at his queen again.

Sansa steps forward, her back now turned to Sandor and with heavy breaths, whether they are from fear or exhaustion, he cannot tell, and faces the queen again.

“Please, I _beg_ you, Your Grace, ”

Daenerys stares at the girl at the feet of the steps, now seemingly mildly surprised.

“You see, I thought you would understand. After all, we two are not so different.” Tears are now running down Sansa’s cheeks.

The Queen lightly frowns. “We are?”

Sansa nods, trying to quell the salty traces on her cheeks. “You see, we both were surrounded by people who were false, who wronged us without us even noticing. There was someone we had wanted to trust to be good to us, but he mistreated us, used us in an abominable way, solely for our claim, for our body, for everything except for what we were truly worth. He hurt us, not only physically, but he tried to keep us in chains, to keep us from growing strong, by feeding us lies, telling us we were nothing worth. “ She pauses, casting down her glance.

“There was another man, though.”

Her voice is steady now, and she slightly turns around to take a look at the convicted man on his knees.

She turns to face the queen again. “This man scared us at first. He was a brute in our eyes, only capable of cruelty, fearsome and harsh. A man we would have never willingly pledged ourselves to. But this man showed us honesty, never lied to us. He took care of us, in the only way he knew, and helped us to see through his rough demeanour. We saw what he did to those that hurt us, or even those who only tried to hurt us, what he was willing to do for us. It should have scared us, really, but in the end it only drew us nearer to him. Because we knew then that this man would never hurt us, would never lie to us, would die for us. This man, we would never forget, this man we...”

She loses her train of thought as she looks over her shoulder again at Sandor. His mouth is slightly agape, but the scowl is wiped away from his face. He stares at her as if he is staring at his own moon and sun and stars, stares at her with awe and vulnerability, still speechless.

Sansa blinks and searches the eyes of Daenerys again.“We lost our men, against our will, my Queen. Mine has somehow been returned to me, only for me to find him on the brink of death. I beg of you not to take him away from me, _khaleesi_.”

The throne room is filled with a silence as loud as thunder.  No-one dares to utter a syllable. by the queen’s side, Ser Barristan Selmy stares at Sansa Stark with surprise and bewilderment. But the Northern queen only stares at the Mother of Dragons.

For a painfully long moment, Daenerys Targaryen holds the gaze of the younger woman, seemingly in trance.

“And what would you have me do?” She breaks the silence, her voice somehow throatier than before.

Sansa swallows, the tears still running down her cheeks. She wills her voice to be strong. “Release him to my custody, Your Grace. I will vow for him and for any crimes he should commit from this day forward, I will readily answer for.”

For the first time since she has entered the court, Sandor raises his husky voice, in a broken and almost begging tone. “Little Bird, don’t...”

She whips around, almost desperate, his broken tone mirrored in her voice. “Be still!” She almost begs, her voice hushed. She turns towards the throne again. “I vow for him.”

It is Ser Barristan who interferes now. “Are you sure you can trust him, Lady Sansa?”

Sansa smiles through her tears at the old knight. “I know he would never betray my trust.”

All eyes focus on Daenerys Targaryen again, who first looks at Sansa, then at Sandor Clegane behind her.

Sansa’s heart leaps in her throat and thrashes against her ribs, waiting for the answer. The tremor that has shaken her hands for the past minutes spread to her knees, forcing them to almost buck under the pressure.

After an eternity, the Queen speaks with her voice raised to sound through the throne room.

“You are very lucky, Sandor Clegane, to have found a woman so devoted to your well-being, who is willing to take such risks to save your life. You’d do well to _honour_ her efforts.”

She mutters a word of High Valyrian and the executioner steps back.

A rough exhale and Sansa spins around, throwing herself to the ground at the man she has just saved. Violent sobs now run through her and she clasps his face in her hands.

He is quicker and pushes her fingers way, only to cup her cheeks in his bound hands.

“Why did you do that? _What were you thinking?_ ” He roars at her, her face brought close to his, his face distorted in an angry snarl as the words try to cut through her, to deter her, to hide himself from her.

But she is too smart to be fooled and smiles at him through her tears, a smile as radiant as the rising sun. She sobs and whimpers but it is mingled with soft laughter as her hands find their way back to thread through his hair, softly detangling it, brushing over the scars on his one side.

And suddenly she holds him, whimpers wrecking his strong body and he buries his reddened face in her neck, holding onto her for support, for protection, for anything she might give. The meld into one shape, red and black, tall and little, strong and weak.

"Little Bird..." he rasps.

 

At the side of the queen, Jorah Mormont leans to whisper to his queen.

“Do you think this is wise, khaleesi?”

Daenerys observes the couple – and a couple they are, for there is no denying by the way they cling to each other that more than simple compassion made Sansa Stark come for Sandor Clegane – and for a moment, she can hear a dark voice in her head. _Jalan Atthirari Anni._

She smiles a gentle smile. “I have no doubt.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am not entirely happy with the result, as usual, the idea in my head can somehow never truly be transferred into words.  
> Concrit is highly appreciated!


End file.
